[ Gunn is grinning when the video feed flickers on. He's also scuffed up - no actual damage, but he's smudged with dirt and grass. He seems pleased as hell about it, though.

In the background, Native children are yelling and running in the park, some calling out orders, some chasing others. There is apparently some sort of game going on. ]

Anyone else checked this out in the park today? They're plays Travelers and Giants. It's - heh. Well, it's flattering, I guess, but man: these kids are kicking my ass. Y'all should get out here and play. Not like we get a whole lotta chance for that these days.

[ It's not fair to say that Gunn is in a panic, exactly, but he certainly doesn't seem well: he's tired, his jaw tense, and there's an aggression in his tone that isn't always there. ]

Whatever this is going on? It's fucked up. I've had enough of it - the nightmares, the apocalyptic visions, the whatever. I'm sick of seeing L.A. burn, yeah? Because - Jesus, we've got the message, loud and clear.

[ He pauses, then reins in his irritation, just because he has no choice. ]

If this is just gonna keep gettin' worse, we need to figure out something to do. Sitting on my ass is about to drive me up the wall, and I know I can't be the only one feelin' that way right now.

[The feed came on, showing a figure that most people in Asgard didn't see very often. Kin has kept a very low profile as a rule, and since her "duel" with Sakura a couple of weeks ago, she's kept a very low profile. Dying was embarrassing, especially when she'd more than earned it for getting cocky towards the end. Still, she'd gotten that ... need out of her system to an extent.

She was in a Loki dorm room, staring at the camera with an irritated expression. Then again, she always had either an irritated or sarcastic look on her face, so that didn't say much.]

Did we have fun hugging to make the locals feel better with those glowing runes? I hope we did. [She didn't sound like she wanted anything of the sort.] I've given this a lot of thought. Pretty in Pink claims she'd talk to a few people, and I actually believe that. Feels weird to say that, but I do.

Still, someone out there's bound to have a hatchet to bury, whatever she says. So, let's bury it. Now. I don't feel like dragging these things out for weeks or years. It'll just get dumb after a while.

Hell, while we're at it, any of you got hatchets to bury, come calling. That includes you, sir spooks a lot, or whatever your deal is. I feel like ... starting over, for whatever half-assed reason.

[ When the video starts, Gunn is playing with a small battle-axe. It's not meant to be a threatening or imposing gesture - he's just restless, and this new toy here is enough to keep his hands busy. ]

So what is the general consensus on the gods, anyway? 'Cause I hear a lot of shit. Both ways, I mean, you know? But the other day it seemed for a second like a bunch of y'all were completely wigging out and getting ready to mutiny, and that's kinda the sort of thing I'd like to prepare for. I mean, just in case.

My two cents? Not really my first apocalypse, and I'm cool with being a hero. [ He pauses for a moment, before adding: ] And I seriously can't believe that I'm actually saying this, but: you guys seriously need to chill.

Okay, when I got here it was with a two bits of hope that I'd meet a faery princess or get to rescue damsels. But no, just my luck that it's my turn to rescue Winchester bacon.

[And she's not complaining about doing it, she's really not. Charlie's eyes are wild and worried about the boys.]

So do we have a GM? A plan? A little help, I'm still in-training here!

[ Gunn isn't easily shaken, but the sight of the bodies in the trees outside his welcome house has just about managed in. He is, in a single word, pissed. ]

We any closer to figuring out who did this? 'Cause I'm telling you now - you think there's a chance it might be you, do us a favor and turn yourself in. Damn. I was just starting to like this place, too.

[In one corner there's a small pile of fluff, just barely visible. Worn and repaired a half dozen times at least, if somebody got close enough to hold it they'd easy feel the stitches that reunited one ear with the rest of it. Poorly done stitches at that. Child-like, even. But incredibly determined. It's clearly showing it's age with an apparent need for glasses. At least it's not bifocals.

His name is Feigenbaum.

And Fred had pretty much counted on never seeing him again.

He'd kept her company on that incredibly long drive into L.A., a familiar face to come home to when everything else was so new and different. Heck, without him it wasn't even home. Just an unfamiliar bed topped with unfamiliar sheets in an unfamiliar house. All of it, smelling like nothing. That's one of the hardest parts, she thinks then, curling up at night and being surrounded by things that all smell like nothing. That made her feel nothing. Everything except for him.

And then, suddenly, she was nothing. (Because when you forget your own name, that's a lot how it feels) For five years it was a different kind of emptiness until they came and brought her back. Back, not home. Because Fred had been absolutely certain home wasn't something she was meant for anymore. She didn't fit into the spaces that she'd left behind. She was the unfamiliar thing now.

But somehow they found her anyway. And somehow they still knew. And even if it wasn't alright? It was better And better felt like a whole heck of a lot. The next time her folks came to visit they brought Fiegenbaum with them, and it was only right then as Mama pressed him into her hands that Fred remembers properly thinking of their version of the story.

A daughter, suddenly gone. Having to make that same trip into L.A. only with just their own thoughts and fears as company. And finally having to pack up her things, to bring them back home instead of her. He feels branded with it now, Feigenbaum. Somewhere in all his mottled fur and wide-set eyes, it's there. All those feelings. Hers, and theirs.

And her folks feel incredibly far away]

Why do the things that make us feel better make us feel so much worse?

[Fred blinks, as if realizing what she's doing]

...and why am I even rambling about this here?

[And the feed opens to a blunt, but cheerful sounding voice.]

So I apologize if someone's asked this before -- I'm sure they have but I'm still pretty new and all -- is it normal for people to be like...from the past in comparison to you?

[Cryptic question is cryptic. She also doesn't know how to filter things yet.]

Just wondering.

Anybody else ever wake up with a crazy headache and a whole yikesitude of shiny, new memories? 'Cause I just got mega-slammed with like a year and a half of my life. And I feel --... Different. I feel different. Stronger. And? Totally commandery. Army of Teenage Girls, ahoy.

Seriously, though -- do the Gods think it's funny to just randomly grasp at straws and shove stuff into our brains while we're sleeping? Thor, I'm talking to you. Is this your idea of fun?

[ When the video starts, Gunn will just seem surprised that it's working at all. ]

Man, I am getting pretty tired of fighting other people's wars. Is what they said true? There's gotta be some sort of portal or spell or - something. I mean, as far as 'other dimensions' go, this one ain't half bad, but I've got shit to do in mine, thanks.

There a magic shop anywhere? Or just books of.. spells or whatever.

[ Which would be nigh incomprehensible without Fred, but he'd muddle through it if that's what it took to get home. ]

-- right, uh, thanks in advance, I guess.